Eavesdropping
by ScullyGolightly
Summary: Mulder overhears something


"You hit that yet?"

"Nah, it was only our third date, but she gave me a handy in the car when I brought her home. I'm taking her out again tonight so…"

"Fingers crossed for you, Ethan. She's hot."

"Tom went home with that chick last night."

"Yeah, right. Who told you that? Tom?"

"Yeah."

"Tom's so full of shit."

"Is he? He seems like a genuine guy."

"You're too gullible, Mark. You probably believed him when he told us that he made a girl come by breathing on her."

From where Mulder was sitting behind the group of men in the next booth, it sounded like Ethan spit his coffee all over the table.

"He really said that?!" Ethan laughed. "I doubt he's even seen a naked woman in the flesh let alone made one come without touching her."

"See, Mark?" the third guy said. "And Ethan's an investigative journalist."

Mark let out a soft, embarrassed chuckle. "Yeah, you're probably right. Is it possible, though, do you think? To make a woman come like that?"

"I highly doubt it."

"My ex could come just from me playing with her tits," said Ethan, and Mulder, who had been listening with half-interested amusement, perked up.

"Who was that?"

"Dana Scully. Remember her?"

"Oh yeah, now _she_ was hot. How'd you fuck that one up?"

"Eh, lost her to her job," Ethan stated, a hint of sadness in his voice. "And to her partner, I'm pretty sure."

Mulder sunk lower in his seat, his good-natured eavesdropping had taken a turn. He was really glad that Scully had decided not to join him for lunch.

The guys divvied up their check, empty plates were scooted around the table, and they gathered their things to leave. Mulder winced at a "did the carpet match the drapes" comment, then strained to hear Ethan's response, but it was drowned out by noise from the kitchen.

He put his hand up to block his face as they went past. He was aware that Scully's ex-boyfriend knew him by reputation, but wasn't sure if he knew what he looked like. Mulder, being as paranoid as he was, had done a background check on the guy when Scully had first been assigned to the X-Files—he knew what Ethan looked like and recognized him as soon as he walked into the deli. Mulder might've sat directly behind him for this reason, but he wouldn't admit that to anyone, not even himself. However, he hadn't expected the earful he ended up getting, and now he had this little nugget of information that he was dying to dissect.

He heard the jangle of the bell above the door and peered back to make sure they were gone, then tossed some bills on the table, grabbed Scully's to-go salad, and left.

"I saw your ex at the deli," Mulder said, handing Scully her lunch.

She gave him a wry smile, narrowing her eyes at him. "Please don't make me say 'which one.'"

"You just did." Mulder winked at her and leaned back on the desk, watching her open the plastic container, then ducking when she threw a salt packet at him. "So you don't want to guess? We can play twenty questions."

"Mulderrr," she whined.

"Geez, Scully, how many exes do you have?" That got him the pepper packet, and he chuckled when it hit him square in the chest. "You're no fun," he said with a mock pout on his face. She ignored it and began eating her salad, only looking up at him expectantly after a couple of bites. "Ethan. I saw Ethan," said Mulder in surrender.

"Oh wow, that's a blast from the past," she intoned. "Did you talk to him?"

"No, but I did hear something interesting."

"Mulder, would you stop teasing me. You're obviously riled up about something. Just ...out with it already."

He looked down at his feet hesitantly, not sure why he was goading her, then he cleared his throat. "He was with two of his buddies and they were talking about hooking up with chicks and stuff and one guy asked if a woman can come just by someone breathing on her-"

Scully nearly choked on a lettuce leaf as it got sucked into her windpipe when she abruptly snort-laughed. "What?!" she exclaimed, coughing.

Mulder laughed, shaking his head. "I know, right?" He waited for her to recover then continued trepidatiously. "Ethan had the same reaction as you, actually. Spit his coffee everywhere. Then he said something about you."

This halted Scully's soft, fading giggle, and her cheeks pinkened. "Oh god, what?" she asked with dread.

"He said ...he said that he was able to make you come by, um—these are his words, not mine—by just playing with your tits."

Scully's eyes went wide, but she quickly composed herself, although she was unable to come up with a response. Mulder wasn't sure of what to say, either, and he felt like a total ass for making Scully uncomfortable. Finally, she let out an amused huff and said, "That's not entirely accurate."

"Not ...entirely?" ventured Mulder.

"Well," she said, shyly glancing up at him. "As you've recently discovered, my breasts are quite sensitive." This conversation was coming on the heels of two consecutive nights of heavy petting on Scully's couch. Rounding home was imminent; they both knew that their relationship would be consummated come week's end.

"I remember exactly what Ethan was referring to. He was, uh...do you want to hear this, Mulder? We've never talked about our sexual histories before. In fact, at times, we've gone to great lengths to avoid it."

"We're past that, Scully. We are getting to know each other intimately now and this is a part of it. I may be insecure, but I assure you I can handle it."

"All right," she said, grinning at him. This new direction their relationship was taking was full of surprises, and she liked it. "So, he woke me up one night when he got home by rubbing my breasts. He teased me through my nightgown with his hands then with his mouth. I got so worked up. Then the nightgown was off and he kept going, focusing only on my breasts. I started to grind myself against his leg and then I came. But it was a combination of the stimuli not just from touching my boobs. Most women need clitoral stimulation to climax." She decided to end this little trip down memory lane with something clinical, thinking it would mollify the awkwardness of telling him.

Mulder let out a slow breath and nodded. "As lead agent of this department, I say we explore this myth."

"Lucky for you, we have a date on Friday and I fully expect you to 'explore' all night long and well into the weekend, too."

"This can't wait, Scully. I'm opening up an X-File on it right now." He started to clear things off the desk, then he took the salad from her lap, closed the lid, and set it aside. Scully followed him with her eyes, not quite believing that he was suggesting that they fool around in the office in the middle of a workday, but finding that her mind and body were more than willing to go along with it ...for science.

Mulder went to the door and locked it. Just the sound of the metal sliding into place made her clench her thighs together. He turned and gave her the most seductive look; heat blossomed at her core. Scully stood as he stepped in front of her, his fingertips playing at a button on her blouse. "First things first, I think we need to study your breasts. See exactly how sensitive they are." Scully could only nod.

He tugged her shirt up from the waist of her skirt and unbuttoned it quickly, brushing it off her shoulders. She was wearing a pale blue lace bra, her blush-pink nipples, already in hardened peaks, showed through the delicate fabric. Mulder ran his thumb around one lightly, and Scully sucked in a sharp breath. The lace was rough against the pad of his finger, he could only imagine the sensation she felt. "My preliminary findings have me optimistic about the outcome," Mulder said, cupping both breasts with his hands now and emphasizing "come" with a hot breath against her cheek. He wasn't sure, but he thought he sensed Scully tremble.

Mulder continued to thumb her nipples with firmer strokes. Scully was arching her back, pushing herself into his hands, a soft mewling sound humming at the back of her throat. A whimper escaped when he pulled the lace cups down and rolled the taut nubs between his fingers. Then he reached back to unclasp the bra, and Scully craned her neck up, her lips searching for his, the tip of her tongue peeking out from behind her teeth. "Ah-ah, Scully," Mulder admonished, moving his face out of her reach. "We are analyzing the effect of isolated breast stimulation." He squeezed her mounds hard, her nipples trapped tightly in the web of his fingers, then slid the bra down her arms.

"All right, if you could lie down, I can proceed with the physical examination." He resisted the urge to grab her ass as she crawled up on the desk—it looked so fucking good in that pencil skirt with the naked expanse of her back above it. Mulder walked around the desk, rolling up the sleeves of his dress shirt, then he put two fingers to the pulse point on her neck. "Heart rate is definitely elevated," he said. He reached back behind him where his glasses were sitting on top of the file cabinet and put them on.

"Not fair," Scully whispered hoarsely, her voice laden with desire. "You know what rolled sleeves and glasses on you do to me, Mulder."

"I'll make a note of it," he said, smirking. "The subject appears to be flushed, the skin on her chest is red as are her cheeks, and goose pimples have spread up her arms." He ran the tips of his fingers along the underside of her breasts to the outer curves, then cupped them again, gently this time, ghosting his palms across her nipples. She let out a weighty sigh.

He kneaded her soft flesh, relishing the way she was coming undone, her body writhing on their desk under the slow, torturous pleasure from his touch. Satisfied with the results from his manual attention, he decided to switch to oral, lowering his head down and running the tip of his tongue around the outer edge of her areola. He whole torso twitched and the most delicate grunt passed by her lips. It was by far his favorite sound he had gotten out of her yet.

Mulder continued to paint her skin like his tongue was the brush and he was an artist working on his masterpiece—soft caresses on the swell of her chest, deliberate strokes across her nipples. His canvas was alive underneath him squirming, twisting, and shuddering; making beautiful sounds that added an audible element to his art. Touching Dana Katherine Scully was an exquisite experience that pleasured all the senses and both sides of the brain.

He peeked to his right and saw her rocking her pelvis rhythmically as if against some imaginary object, and he hoped she was imagining that it was his body, meeting him thrust for thrust. Her breaths started to come out in harsh bursts and he saw her hand slide across her thigh toward her center. Mulder gently put his hand over hers as he bit down around her nipple then soothed it with his tongue; her hand became a fist in his palm, and she grunted again.

He stood up and pulled her skirt by the hem, bunching it up around her hips. Scully was wearing a matching set of lingerie, her auburn curls hardly concealed by the sheer baby blue lace. The fabric was dark and wet and clinging to her swollen lips. Now it was Mulder who made the noise: a low, guttural growl.

"Oh my god," she murmured, breathlessly. "Mmmulderrr."

He leaned down, putting his face close to her sex, breathing in her heady, feminine scent, then braced himself against the desk, the smell and the heat of her making him lightheaded. His tongue snuck out getting dangerously close before he lifted his head, barely able to keep himself in check. Mulder felt a tingle in his jaw—he was literally salivating. He reached his left hand up, back to her boob and fondled her, then blew a hot stream of air directly down onto her lace-covered clit.

"AaaaAAAAAGH!"

Her thighs quivered, her vulva spasmed, her breast felt firm under his hand. This was Scully orgasming and it was the most incredible thing he had ever seen. He blasted her with another warm breath to let her ride it out, then he looked up at her face. It was rosy and slightly dewy—radiant, her bottom lip trapped in her teeth, eyes squeezed shut, forehead crinkled, but not in its usual skepticism, it was scrunched up in ecstasy.

After a moment, Scully blinked her eyes open and smiled at him. "You made me come by breathing on me, Mulder," she said in between heavy breaths.

He chuckled. "Guess I did, huh."

Scully sat up and swung her legs off the desk, reaching for his waist and pulling him into her, his erection pressing against her center. They both moaned as he captured her lips with hers. She tucked her hand between them and palmed him, then pushed him back roughly, sending him into the chair. He looked at her wide-eyed as she got down on her knees in front of him, her hands going to his belt.

She was just about to free his cock from his boxers when the locked door handle jiggled. Then there was a loud knock and Skinner saying, "Agents?" They scrambled to redress and make the desk look like a sex act had not just been performed atop it. Mulder opened the door to see his perturbed boss standing with his arms folded across his chest.

"I've been calling you. And why is this door locked?"

Scully picked up the phone that was still on the floor next to the desk, the receiver had fallen off. She placed it back where it belonged, looking sheepishly at Skinner. "Sorry, we're doing some spring cleaning."

His eyes traveled back and forth between them, scrutinizingly. "Is that what the kids are calling it these days."

"Sir?"

"Your blouse is misbuttoned, and Mulder, you can't be _that_ happy to see me."


End file.
